


Like A Fiddle

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [395]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:05:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: navigatorsnorth asked for: Scott and John and the technical definition of breakfast





	

Scott always called up before turning in.  Nominally, it was to check on any lingering issues, officially set the island to dark after a day of work and to formally transfer of the lines of communication.  IR had to run strictly to protocol to keep their authority to act at all.

If it was also a chance for Scott to check in with his brother, no-one needed to know.

Scott wasn’t expecting any problems, and when John answered the call from his personal area with a relaxed smile, Scott felt that little knot he always had at this time unravel.  “All quiet on the western front?” he asked, slinging himself onto the sofa to look up at the glowing hologram.

John nodded, weightless and fae in the dark room.  “And the eastern, southern and northern,” he agreed. “And nothing brewing on the horizon either, so barring some sudden disaster…”

“Knock on wood,” Scott quipped, reaching over to rap his knuckles on the nearest table.  It was a saying of their grandmother’s, but one that had stuck.

John chuckled.  “No wood here, so knock on your skull for me, will you?”

“Har har,” Scott drawled.  “How’s things on TB5?”

John reached out of the field, and waggled a bagel at Scott.  “That I’ve broken out the cream cheese is my biggest news, that’s how exciting today has been.”

Scott frowned.  “A bagel ain’t dinner, Johnny.”

John rolled his eyes at the nickname.  “I’m still at breakfast,” he said with a shrug, biting off a mouthful.

Scott felt his lips purse.  “Breakfast?  It’s…” he glanced at the nearest clock.  “It’s nearly 10pm, John.”

“For you,” John said, chewing slowly.  “But it’s breakfast time somewhere in the world…ahh,” he glanced off to one side.  “Kangerlussuaq, for example.  It’s just gone six there.”  He took another bite.  “Totally bagel time in Kangerlussuaq.”

Scott shook his head.  “I don’t really care what time it is in Kangerlussa-whatever.”

“Kangerlussuaq,” John enunciated clearly, eyes dancing.

“Whatever and wherever.  I care that I know you’ve done a full day’s work, so please tell me that this isn’t the first meal of your day.”

John opened his mouth.

“And coffee doesn’t count,” Scott interjected quickly.

John closed his mouth, lips twisting slightly as he thought.

Scott covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head slowly.  “John, come on, I shouldn’t have to give you the take care of yourself speech.”

John shrugged.  “If I don’t feel hungry, I don’t bother.  If I feel hungry, I eat.”

Scott felt the knot re-ravel between his shoulders.  “So if I look at your consumables pattern for this month, I’m going to find your food stores going down at roughly the predicted rate for one occupant?”

John looked vaguely bashful, but he wasn’t backing down.  “If you start clucking soon, I would not be surprised.”

“And that’s avoidance,” Scott said patiently.  “Get the ‘worry your big brother trifecta’ and I’m on the next space elevator up there.”

John rolled his eyes.  “I’m fine, Scott.  Really.”

“Prove it,” Scott said, leaning forward.  “Gordon’s making lasagna on Sunday, barring some giant catastrophe.  We’ll set you a place.”

John bit his lip lightly.  “Did you just play me?”

Scott beamed.  “Like a fiddle,” he agreed.  “I’m turning in now.  Get some sleep, and we’ll see you down here in a few days.”

John sighed, put upon, but he was smiling.  “Sleep well, you sneaky chicken.”  The hologram flickered off, plunging the room back into darkness.


End file.
